


A Mix of Clay, Paint, and Citrus

by author_abz



Category: iCarly
Genre: F/M, Gen, Sam Has Issues, Sam-Centric, Secret Relationship, communication issues, the Shays are good for Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-05
Updated: 2010-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/author_abz/pseuds/author_abz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is terrible at expressing herself, at least when it comes to relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mix of Clay, Paint, and Citrus

**Author's Note:**

> One of the few Sam/Spencer fics I've written that really stand the test of time. I didn't really like it when I first wrote it, but it's one I 100% love coming back to because I think it's actually in-character.

Sam’s never been good at expressing herself. Actually, she’s really good at expressing when she’s pissed off and when she thinks someone is being an idiot, and when she thinks something is funny, and if something is particularly awesome. So really, it’s just the mushy stuff she has trouble expressing. It generally doesn’t matter, she doesn’t have a whole lot of mushy feelings floating around inside she’s dying to get out. But she does feel ridiculous when she admits it took her over three years to tell Carly that she was her best friend.

Since then, Sam hasn’t had to articulate her best friend sentiments to Carly. Between the two, they develop a shorthand, or Carly will bring it up and all Sam has to do is nod, and she knows that they understand each other. It’s the same way it’s always been with her family: Melanie will try to get Sam to speak up, and she just scrunches down in her chair, but they both know that she’s there, and it’s enough.

Sam’s gotten away with being bad at expressing any mushy, soft feelings she has, but she knows this is different.

It was few months ago, maybe it was even nine or ten months ago, when Sam found herself intertwined with Spencer’s limbs. First on the couch, then in his bed, until one morning she wakes up under Spencer’s arm and on top of his legs. It makes her silently giggle for almost ten minutes, because she can’t move, and she’s so uncomfortable, but because Spencer is such a sound sleeper she eventually falls back asleep, her head on his chest, as comfortable as if she had moved.

They don’t talk about it, and that works well for Sam, they smile at each other and hold hands sitting on the couch, sharing a blanket and sometimes they even play footsie over dinner. Sam knows it’s ridiculous, and she tries not to smile too much because she is not a twittering, giggling, airhead girl – that would be lame, but she enjoys every second of it. They go out to dinner, and sometimes movies, they sneak onto the ice rink, and they stay at home and talk into all hours of the night.

Sam’s pretty sure that she and Spencer both know that they’re officially dating, officially boyfriend and girlfriend. She should have known sooner, but she’s spent her entire day helping Spencer construct his latest masterpiece when she could have been lounging on the couch doing nothing, or going to a movie, but she’s not. She’s pretty sure this is boyfriend-girlfriend behavior, and it makes her smile, because she never thought that she’d end up here.

She’s gotten used to the warm feeling that fills her up. It actually scares her, which of course, is ridiculous, because she doesn’t get scared. Then Spencer smiles at her, and she can feel it. So she kisses him, or looks at her hands and her moment is ruined. They lie together under the covers, and she burrows her face into his chest, inhaling the scent of his shirt and clinging onto him as tightly as she can as they fall asleep. It’s the closest she can get. She’s never really thought osmosis could work with ideas (and it was never really funny), but she can try.

It’s awkward for at least a week after that, because Spencer can’t help but say it with his eyes almost every time he looks at Sam, and it makes her feel guilty even as she smiles back. They’re both terrible at public displays of affection, mostly because they’re not in a public relationship, but Sam tries it out. Standing near him, holding onto his arm, leaning into him, putting her hand on his, and anything she can think of. They go to the movies and the woman who generally flirts with Spencer gives Sam a dirty look as she links their arms, and it feels like she’s claiming him. Sam certainly agrees with the sentiment, but it feels counterproductive somehow.

There are two weeks where they fight. They don’t talk for a week, fighting passive aggressively, and Carly has to act as a very confused go-between a few times. But then Sam realizes she can’t sleep, and in the process of getting tangled into his warm bed and his limbs she tells him what their real issue is. They fight more before they realize they both aren’t ready to have kids and agree on that. When they find out it’s not going to happen – thank goodness – they manage to go back to where they were.

Sam has a terrible day at school and she comes home to be enveloped in Spencer’s arms, to breathe in the mix of paint, clay, and citrus of his chest. He offers advice she can use, makes a dirty joke, and kisses her on the top of the head, and she never wants to let go. And maybe osmosis does work, because he doesn’t try to move, he doesn’t ask her lots of questions, he just stands there and holds her. They stand there a while, not that either of them notice, and Sam can feel it, except it’s different this time. It doesn’t fill her up, but it’s noticeable in every part of her body, a warm buzzing.

She thinks it, she thinks it over and over and puts it on the tip of her tongue, but the door opens before it gets out. And so they separate, the moment passed, Sam still buzzing, and she knows she needs to say it.

Another new iCarly passes, another set of completed detentions, and a new sculpture is sent to a local gallery. It’s been a long, happy night, and Sam lays comfortably, her face pressed into his chest and the softness of his shirt. His arm is draped across her, hugging her close, the other under her head, and Sam’s made sure their legs are thoroughly intertwined. The apartment is quiet so she can hear the city below them, and she’s hyper aware of the fact she’s wearing one of his shirts and nothing else. It rushes through her veins and rushing with it is a sense of security.

“Spencer.”

A siren sounds in the distance, and she feels Spencer reply, “Hmm,” and he isn’t asleep yet.

“I love you.”

There are a few seconds of silence, but then Sam can feel Spencer’s hand running slowly through her hair, and he’s smiling down at her tiredly, “I know,” he says softly, “I love you too.”

It won’t happen again soon, Sam expressing her feelings, but it was worth it.


End file.
